


In Your Darkest Hours

by Nevara_Alyss



Series: Subjugated by Fate [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dark, F/M, Graphic Sexual Content, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, Multi, Rape Aftermath, Threesome - F/M/M, Torture, Violence, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-16 21:19:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevara_Alyss/pseuds/Nevara_Alyss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. A young Hawke is sent into slavery and meets an unconventional ally. Freedom is a noble idea but when the price is weighted can they look back on all that they had lost and finally accept that what they had all along was each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still working on this continuing saga. It might take some time, given that my mind likes to bounce around on other projects.

The rains came to pass on the sleepy hamlet of Lothering. It was typical for the season that sowers would be out amongst their fields planting their seeds while the soil was moist. The temperate rain shower locked the Hawke children indoors for the day. It felt like an eternity in the small homestead. Adria could barely see out the rain speckled window. Her little feet were stretched as far as they could. On pointe, she strained to watch her father work. His tired features were shadowed by the long black wisps of hair that he fought to keep out of his face.

In the background, the small child could hear the twins bickering on the floor amidst a pile of blocks and dolls. Adria had recently come into her own. Her ability of spellcasting came as little shock to both of her parents, but they were concerned. In recent months, her mother had heard that her cousin’s children had all been taken off to the Circle. It was a very real threat that she now posed on her family. She bit her lip and sniffled as she looked to her mother darning socks at the table and back to her father.

The arguing continued and Bethany squealed in agony. Her mother rose from her seat with a sigh and picked the whimpering child off the floor. Carver sat with a satisfied look on his face. His fraternal twin held her arm close to her chest, a small hand covering a hidden wound from sight. Their mother set her on the table top and gently pried the sniveling child’s hand away. She scowled with a shake of the head and went to get a rag from off the counter.

Adria leaned into her younger sister curiously and saw the perfectly aligned rows of teeth marks on her forearm. Being the caring older sister that she was, she put her arm around her younger sibling and squeezed. Bethany relaxed when Mother came back and dabbed the painful impressions delicately. 

“Adria, go get your father,” Mother ordered without a look in her direction.

The mousy little girl hopped off the chair and opened the door and stepped onto the wooden porch. The rain pitter pattered on the awning. Slow streams of water fell from the eaves and puddled near the stairs. As any child would in the situation of puddles- she jumped off the deck into the pooling water and giggled. Muddy water splashed her pale legs, speckling them in brown grit. She bounced up and down a few more times making sure that she was good and dirty for when she returned inside.

“Father,” the little girl called. She ran as fast as her little legs would carry. The grass underneath tickled her bare feet as she approached. 

He looked down at her with a smile. Adria spun in the rain, enjoying the warm water hit her bare skin. She looked up to the heavens letting the little kisses of water hit her face. 

“What are you doing out here?” Father asked. He crouched down to her level. He dusted his hands off and patted her on the head. 

“Mother sent me to get you,” Adria said. She twisted her damp hair around her finger. Her dark green eyes glistened in the waning sun. “Carver bit Bethany and-.”

Her father frowned and stood. “That’s all I need to hear.” He held his hand out for her to take but Adria resisted. 

“Can’t I play for a little while longer?” Adria whined.

Her father laughed and shook his head. 

“Your mother would kill both of us if I left you out here to play in the rain.” Adria frowned. Her pouty lip jutted out and her chin quivered. Her father exhaled and swept the small child up in his arms. “Maybe we’ll work on some magic in a little bit. How about that?”

Adria nodded with fervor. They both returned inside, where the insanity seemed to subside. Adria’s mother had resumed her stitching and Carver sat on a small stool in the center of the room. His chin was in his hand. He glared at his sisters and stared off into space. 

“What’s going on, love?” her father asked, letting the child slide to the floor. 

“Nothing, Malcolm. It is already taken care of,” the worn out woman answered, never taking her eyes from her work.

“Well, I’m going to work with Adria for a little bit,” he looked down at his eldest daughter with a wink and led her out of the house. He took her to a small building just behind the dwelling and unlocked the bolted door. 

Adria stood in the middle of the ramshackle room and waited for her father to set up for their daily lesson. She had learned barely anything about the art of spell casting, but she always anticipated some new breakthrough in her education. Malcolm shut the door and turned to the little girl, whose eyes gleamed in the dim light.

“Alright, little girl, we’re going to work on something difficult. Are you up to that?” Malcolm asked. He pulled a stool from the wall and sat on it. “Control. We’re going to work on how you can hide your abilities from others.”

“Why would I want to hide it?” she questioned, cocking her head.

“Because, magic frightens people and the Templars will try to take you away if they find out about it.”

“But magic is a gift, isn’t it?”

“It is a very special gift; one that takes great responsibility to control and maintain. Once you learn to control yourself with it then the words and motions will come simply. A simple heal spell or fireball spell can come back-with negative consequences- if done incorrectly.”

“So I can do really bad things?”

“If you don’t do them correctly- yes.”

“I don’t want to do that,” Adria muttered rapidly shaking her head.

“I know you don’t. You can do some very basic spells, but sometimes when you get angry you have a tendency to let things get out of control. The day we found out you could cast spells you nearly burnt the house down and it was all over something small and meaningless.”

“It wasn’t meaningless,” the little girl snapped. She balled her hands up into fists and shook angrily.

“Dearest one, relax. You’ll learn what is really important and what isn’t when you get older.” He rose from his seat and stood behind the girl. He placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. “Now I want you to cast a small fire spell, but do not release it. Just hold it there.”

XXXXX

Darkness fell over the hills and small valley where the Hawke family resided. After the dishes had been cleaned and the children had been tucked away for the evening, Adria laid in bed looking up at the ceiling. She tried to think through all things her father had said and left little doubt that magic wasn’t truly a gift from the Maker, but a cold and calculating attempt at misery. For someone as young as she- whose six year old mind couldn’t fathom the complexity at which her powers could contain- she was going to correct the world of its misgivings about the negative obligations that mages had. As a whole, she had no real grasp of what the implications of the Fade or blood magic, abominations had to do with her or how they could affect the way she did things.

A small whimper caught her attention and saw a bleary-eyed Bethany standing beside her bed. Adria scooted over and opened the blankets for her younger sister. Sacrificing her comfort and pillows for her sister; she dozed off. She tried to keep those terrifying thoughts from invading her dreams but woke in spurts of cold sweats and dazed recollections.

Crashing and yelling from outside of the children’s room awoke Adria. Her eyes, heavy with exhaustion, caught sight of her mother’s frame pressed against the door. The frightened child sat up in bed with a start. A scuffling sound neared the door and her mother became startled. She grabbed the knob and closed her eyes.

“Momma?” Adria questioned in the blackened room. “What’s wrong?”

“Hush, darling.” She waved the scared child to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I need you to get your brother and sister out of here. Understand?”

“But why?”

“It’s-,” Glass shattered on the floor and Malcolm yelling overshadowed her wracked nerves. “Just get them out the window and run. I will be right behind you.”

Adria started to cry. She was terrified. She had no idea what was going on and the way her mother was acting, things were not going anywhere near a positive direction. Her mother brushed her dark locks away and smiled. An abrupt kick to the door sent Adria’s mother sprawling to the floor beside her. Three imposing shadows walked into the room. They stood over the little girl with their weapons drawn. Adria heard her father yelling at them to get away from her. One of the helmed men picked up the semi-conscious woman at her feet and dragged her from the room. Another dragged both of her siblings from bed. They shrieked in terror at the strangers that had so forcefully grabbed them from the safety of their beds. The one that remained grabbed Adria by the hand and bound her hands in rope before shoving her out the door into the small family room.

“Mother and children are all bound and ready for transport, Captain,” one of the men said to a larger and meaner looking man in the doorway. 

The four of them huddled in the corner in fear as they watched their father and husband struggle with two more men. His hands were restrained to the table. He looked at his loved ones with no fear.

“Well, he’s of no use to us,” the captain responded. 

“Please don’t hurt them,” Malcolm pleaded.

“We wouldn’t do that.”

The captain withdrew a long and heavy sword from its sheath. It still glowed brightly in the faint light. Adria watched it in shock. The way it bent the yellow and orange light from the dimming fire was mystical. The sadistic captain looked at the child an evil smirk spread across his face. Yet his eyes were devoid of any true emotion.

“Leandra, look away. Shelter the children,” Malcolm told her.

Leandra covered the twins’ eyes and slammed her own shut, leaving Adria staring into the face of horror. She couldn’t look away. She watched as the man swung the blade through the air and lopped off her father’s hand. A spray of blood splattered across the stunned girls face. The sound of steel snapping bone formed a hard pit in the little girl’s stomach. Malcolm screamed. He clenched his teeth as his hand fell to the floor with a thud. Malcolm’s eyes fell on the bound child and frowned. He uttered something to her, but she couldn’t make out the words. 

Adria brought her hands to her face and smeared away some of the wet and foreign fluid from near her eyes and looked at it. She smeared it in her fingers and shook with rage. Control. She had to fight her very powers to keep from kindling an already dire situation into a firestorm of blood and damnation. A second thud to the table and an equally loud scream made the once carefree lass jump with a start. The slow trickle of blood splattered the floor. 

“Get them out of here,” the captain ordered the marauders.

Heavy hands picked Adria up. She couldn’t stop watching her father. The pools of blood that formed around the table started to trickle through the grout work of the stone floor. She was lifted off the floor and flung over the shoulder of a man. His heavy armor dug into her ribs and she yelped in agony as the scales cut into her. She caught the final glimpses of her father watching her as she was removed from the scene.

Her mother cried as she was drug along. Bethany and Carver were both hoisted on to the shoulders of other men. They were sobbing violently, but Adria remained stoic not showing her emotions, not letting the weakness get to her. She wasn’t going to satisfy them with her frightened wailing. She repeated to herself over and over again the last words that her father told her at the end of their lesson: everything you do and don’t do- even magic- is based off emotions. If you can control that then you will control all the forces that remain in constant imbalance.


	2. Chapter 2

The grass was a luscious green as the elven siblings played in the garden of their master's estate. Giggles and revelry emanated from the little bodies as they gave chase after each other. Squeals of delight that would be hushed by their mother from a distance would be ignored and the games continued.

It was warm and sticky that afternoon. Red faces frolicked taking diligent strides to hide amongst the fading shade as ragged clothes clung to dampened skin. The day was relaxing for them given that their master had scolded the children for being noisy miscreants and assumed a posture of complete and utter dominance over their mother.

They tried to stay quiet, but the whims of children were fleeting and when so-called adventure heralded them to a game of damsel in distress- they jumped at the chance.

"I will slay the monster," the elven boy barked in a defiantly strong voice.

He ran across the grass; his bare feet slapped across the pavement towards his sister at full sprint. His disheveled appearance mattered little as he dove to his sister and rolled into the dirt feet from his mother. He dusted himself off briefly and shook the dirt from his black hair. He continued after his sister and gave chase when she bolted for their mother's skirt.

"You can't get me," the elven lass stated. She stuck her tongue out and pulled the skirt up in front of her face to hide the snickers and giggles she was eking out in front of her brother.

"That's not fair," the boy grumbled.

He kicked a pebble into the grass and sauntered away. He tucked his hands in his pockets and felt the holes that were ripped into them.

"Leto! Wait!" the girl screamed. "I still want to play."

"Then play," he snapped. "I'm going to go-."

He headed in the direction of the estate and stopped when a man blocked him from continuing. Leto stared for a moment and without thinking about the ramifications of his child-like curiosity he looked up at the man. The man paid him no notice and turned to the magister and continued speaking with him.

"Three weeks," the magister said. "A new batch of slaves should be coming in."

"Thinking about taking another one in, Danarius?" the master asked.

"Why not? It doesn't hurt to have more does it?"

"Do you know where they are getting these ones? Any place specific or is it going to be just the random assortment of useless waste as it has been the last few months?"

"The usual, I'm guessing. I have a special order coming in with that batch. Something atypical of the usual offal that seems to find its way here." Danarius finally turned to Leto and smiled. "A plaything more or less and when I tire of them they will be put to use all the same."

"A plaything? You are deviant my friend," the magister snorted. "It's a wonder you aren't held in sanctions because of it."

"And why would I be? I have certain requirements and I tire of the mundane. I want something exotic and out of the ordinary every once in a great while," Danarius sniffed the air with a pompous attitude.

"How exotic?" The master's eyes squinted with curiosity. "Are we talking Rivain? Orlais?"

"Been there. Done that," Danarius said with a wave of the hand. "Something quiet and learns who is in charge quickly. I didn't pay those slavers the exorbitant sums of coin to be wasted on something I could pick up out of some back alley, toy with for a weekend and then put them down."

"Long term then?" The man chuckled and shook his head. "I'm sure the other magisters would love to have your taste in women."

"I never said I was looking for a woman," Danarius sneered. "Something that I can mold into something I want is more ideal."

"A child? Really?"

"And why not? They are the most impressionable of anyone." Danarius crossed his arms and winked at Leto with a grin. Leto smiled back and saw the master glare at the child. "You can't expect perfection to come rolling in all at one time. The older they are- the harder they are to breakdown."

The master rose from his seat and slammed the door to the garden, separating Leto from the two men. He jumped back, startled and turned back to his mother who was doing the wash. He sat at her feet and watched the sudsy water slosh out of the tub and onto the ground. He stuck his feet into the dirty water and cooled his heels. He didn't understand the ramifications of the conversation; all he thought was that he might be gaining a new friend whenever Master Danarius would come over.

It would have been nice to have someone new to antagonize and square off against. Even if it was a girl. Girls were gross anyways. He already had a sister to hassle, why mock the chance that some other little elven girl would come along and be accepted into the already overabundant hustle and bustle of the city was beyond him. Slavery was a concept he understood, given that he was born into it, but he didn't face the same responsibilities that his mother faced. She had always warned him to stay away from the master just to keep prying eyes off of her son.

He lay back on the ground and stared into the blue sky. Clouds speckled the sky as he tried to imagine the numerous shapes that could be accounted for. _A rock, a supposed bunny, another rock, a duck, a man with a sword, a… cloud._ He tired of the game quickly and laid his head against his mother's leg. His eyes were heavy- the heat exhausting to the young boy in filthy clothes and grimy black hair. A cool damp hand rubbed against his cheek and he burrowed his face into her skirt. A sense of safety and security allowed him to close his eyes. Not knowing it would be the last time he'd ever smell his mother's scent or feel her touch again.

The wooden plate sat in front of Leto. The stale crust of bread and wilted carrot adorned the plate in an unpalatable fashion. His mother was conveniently absent after being pulled aside during dinner. He looked at Varania who held her rag doll close to her and sat slouched in the chair. She couldn't stomach the food as much as he could. The small quarters left little to the imagination. It was unbearably hot with the hearth alight with fire. Leto picked up the pale, orange carrot and bent it with ease. It didn't snap; it just flopped around as he shook it in the air. He tossed it on to the platter and took a sip of water.

"Do you know where Mother is?" Varania asked as she stroked the stringy hair of her doll.

Leto didn't answer. He turned in his chair and stared at the door hoping that his mother would emerge from whatever clandestine destination she went to. They both knew that it was late and that the dinner service should have been completed hours ago. It was so unlike her to not be there so long after the sun had set and the crickets outside played their mating songs.

The door cracked, hesitated, and slowly opened up. Their mother stood there, wet lines streaked her face and her usually well placed hair was hanging loosely around her shoulders. Leto rose from his seat and approached his mother. It wasn't the first time he'd seen her like that. The bruises in the shape of hand prints that marked her arms, her clothing that she tried to keep to a certain level of cleanliness was torn and hung on her.

"Mother?" Leto squeaked as he took her hand.

"It's alright, son." She squeezed his hand and feigned a smile to reassure him that she was alright. He saw through the lie and scowled.

"Mother!" Varania cried as she ran to her mother and threw her arms around her waist.

Their mother winced at the pressure but shook off their looks of dread when they looked up at her. Leto led her to the table and sat her down in his chair. He took a small rag from off a rack and wet it in a filthy pail of water. He wrung it out and started for his mother and saw her watching him with a faint smile.

"You are such a good boy, Leto."

The boy started dabbing the various wounds that were of various depths into her flesh. He kept watching her for signs of pain but got nothing. His mother couldn't look at him anymore and her head rested on her hand. Varania sat in the chair next to her and scooted it closer. The legs squeaked across the wood floor digging shallow gouges into it.

"This is your fault," Varania hissed.

Leto stopped nursing his mother's injuries and looked at his sister square in the eye. His heart quickened at her implication. Their mother looked at Varania and glared.

"It's not his fault," their mother insisted. She placed her free hand on her daughter's and patted it lovingly.

"But if Leto hadn't interrupted Master's discussion then he wouldn't have been so angry at you," the girl argued.

Her words were biting and instigating a confrontation that Leto didn't want to participate in; not with her at least.

"I could kill him," Leto stated. He continued working letting his eyes glance at the reactions of both his mother and sister.

"No," their mother scolded. "Don't ever think that. If such words are overheard then no matter the damage I endure will save you from whatever punishment they would want to inflict on you."

Leto threw the rag onto the table and paced in front of them. He was deep in thought over what to do. He could easily sneak into the manor and slit the man's throat and no one would be the wiser, but if his mother was right, then everything she had overcome and dealt with would be for nothing. He didn't want to put her through any more pain and if what happened to her was a direct result of his actions, then it should have been him to be abused. No matter how much his mother sacrificed in her attempts to protect him he knew that given the opportunity he would trade places with her.

He didn't want Varania to succumb either to the unenviable task of slave and whore. He wanted something better for them. He was tired of living in squalor where when hell came upon them it was their mother that took the brunt of the action. He just needed the chance to break free of it all. He would save them. Be the knight in shining armor that was only uttered during nightly stories before bedtime when he was younger.

Even then, those stories became further and further apart and he never really knew if the hero saved the damsel at the end. Maybe she died, maybe he died. Maybe both. It didn't matter in his mind the sacrifice and struggle were what made the adventure great. And yet, as much as he tried to be the savior for his family, he was still a child that couldn't help but feel utterly helpless to lay witness to the aftermath of their master's hatred and abuse. He wanted to save someone, anyone; to complete the story that still remained unfinished in his mind.

The door swung open with no warning. Their mother stood and hid the children behind her back as Danarius and their master strolled in. The two men stared at the battered elven woman with sneers.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Master?" she questioned. She looked to the ground and pressed her children tightly against her to shield them from view.

"There's nothing you can do for me now," he remarked. He paused and glanced around the side of her to Leto - whose eyes were glaring at the man scornfully. "Well there is one thing." He grabbed the boy by the arm and pulled him around to the front. Leto fought him and sunk his teeth into his hand. The master pulled his hand back and shook it feverishly just to let the pinching throb subside. He sneered at the boy and backhanded him across the face.

Danarius laughed with amusement and picked the child up off the floor.

"This one has spunk," he chortled. "I'll take him."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Leto retorted.

Danarius' expression changed to amusement to anger. He clutched the child's face in his hand and stared down at him.

"You will. Trust me. The deal is done," he hissed with sickening glee.

A woman came around the side and saw Leto. She frowned and tried to hide it, but it was all too obvious what she was thinking. She knelt down and held the boys hand.

"Isn't he the cutest thing," she cooed in a sarcastic tone.

Leto wrenched his head out of the magister's hand and spun to face his mother. Her eyes were filled with tears for her son.

"Mother?" he eked. She sighed and remained motionless. Danarius and the woman grabbed each of his hands and started to drag the struggling child away. "Mother!" He kept looking back to see if she was going to resist and fight for him to stay. It's what any mother would have done. "Mother!" he called a final time. The last glance he caught of his mother and sister was their backs turning to him as they listened to what their master was saying.

He stopped fighting his captors and meandered with them. His feet hesitated against their strides and wanted to set their own, but the pace they were keeping up with only hindered any attempt to break free of them. _Why am I being sent away?_ Danarius looked down Leto and smirked.

"You will make a fine slave one day."

_I'm not a slave. I won't be a slave. You'll regret taking me from my family one day. Mark my words._


	3. Chapter 3

Dawn had broken as the raiders walked through the wooded area. Adria marched with bare feet through sharp sticks and rocks as a man behind her shoved her along to keep pace with the rest of the group. Her feet throbbed and she knew that there were numerous injuries to her soles and ankles. Her wrists were bruised with the rope burns that restrained her hands from freedom. She was filthy; her night shirt was torn and ripped. The flannel tore at the hem and flitted in the breeze subtly, exposing her knees. They were burned and bruised with all the falling and stumbling she had done since the man had forced her to carry her weight.

The twins had been silenced what seemed like hours before. Rags had been lashed around their heads to gag them from their incessant wailing. The weary child looked at them and frowned. She had hoped there was something she could do to save them, but with her size and inexperience she wouldn't be able to take on so many grown men at once. If only she was a little bit older she might have been able to make a difference. Maybe her father would be alive right now. She hated herself for being so helpless to him during his mutilation.

She tried to recount what her father had said to her. She broke it down in slow motion and let the insurmountable task of repetition through horror flood back to her. Malcolm knew what was coming. Whether he was telling her to turn away as well or whether he was apologizing - she wasn't sure. Adria knew she couldn't turn away. Her curiosity was one of undeniable depth. It didn't matter whether it was life or death or how the world worked, she had to know everything. Why she hadn't looked away could have been her inquisitiveness getting the better of her, but the abnormal intrigue she held for her father's torture with nary a shred of real emotion frightened her more than anything.

The group stopped in front of what should have been a condemned shack. The captain removed his helm and kicked open the door. He drew his weapon and stepped inside. Adria looked over at her mother, who was walking dead. She hadn't ever seen her mother so beside herself as she had been right then. The once proud and beautiful woman ,who even when they fell on hard times carried herself as one above her station always proper and serene, now had nothing left but her restraints and ratty hair hanging in her face. She was sooty from head to toe with dirt and debris that smeared across her face.

"We'll set up here," the captain said.

He stood in the doorway and replaced his sword at his side. A violent shove from behind forced Adria to start walking again. She resisted and looked over her shoulder at the masked man. He glared down at her and raised his hand to strike her for her insubordination. She recoiled as the man's hand came down towards her. A gruff hand stopped the incoming smack and the frightened girl slowly relaxed. The captain had come to her rescue. She breathed a sigh of relief and kicked the man in the shin. Her toes cracked as they hit the greave, but she reserved the agonizing pain for herself.

"We want them unharmed, you idiot," the captain growled. "We aren't going to make any money off of them if we turn them in damaged."

The slaver wrenched his arm away and stormed off towards the house. Adria watched as her remaining family was led inside. She turned to follow with a slight skip in her step. She was satisfied with her juvenile retribution, but it was short lived. The slaver captain yanked her back to him by the collar of her night shirt and spun her around. Her ankle popped unnaturally and she grimaced with the jolt of pain that radiated to her knee. It wasn't broken; she could still bare weight on it. That didn't make little difference, however. How was she going to get away now?

She eyed the captain with contempt and it resonated with him in a way he never thought it would. He was at a loss for words. The way he looked at her was unsettling to the child who at one moment showed signs of terror and submission and at the next out right accusatory defiance. She was enigmatic and strong willed. For all he knew, he should be asking double the money he got for this little doglord brat. He didn't know if she would survive the rigors of servitude. She seemed too old for what his patron had sent him to look for. The younger one seemed to be more to the specifications he was required to return with, but this one with dark green eyes with orange starbursts in the center seemed more or less… special.

"Sir," a man called from behind the two of them.

They both looked at him questioningly. Adria went to leave but felt the firm grasp of the man's hand on her clothes still.

"What is it?" the captain asked. His fist bawled further into the fabric. It started to strangle the girl when she pulled away.

"Some of the men are concerned when our transport is supposed to be here."

The man took a couple of steps and stopped right in front of the wriggling child. He smirked at her struggle and straightened up when the captain stood in front of him. He yanked Adria to his side nearly sending her to the ground.

"Soon. We'll be meeting them here this evening."

The man saluted and resumed his position at the door. The captain dragged Adria inside with him and led her to a small room where her siblings and mother were already being stowed away. They were huddled in the corner like scared raccoons in a den. Adria ran to them and wrapped her arms around her mother's neck. She buried her face in her neck and sniffled gently. The slaver captain slammed the door and left them alone to their misery.

"Are you alright, love?" Mother asked as she wiped the few strands of hair from her daughter's face.

Adria nodded slowly and removed herself from the group. The three of them looked at her with confusion in their eyes. The girl took a step backward and then another and held her ear to the door. She scanned the room for any way to escape and found that the lone window to their prison had been nailed shut.

Boots shuffled about the wooded floor as their captors meandered around. Chairs fell over and the crack of wood made her pull away in fear of what was going on in the adjoining room. She could hear a conversation, but the language it was spoken in made little sense to her. The voices- from what she could tell- were harsh and angry.

She looked over at her mother and shook her head with regret. She wished she could help them and while the boy of the family was now supposed to be the protector, Adria held little hope for his actual involvement in any of the goings on of strategic planning. Besides, what could she possibly concoct on her own but childish ramblings and weak minded indecision.

XXXXX

Adria sat cross legged on the floor. Her back leaned against the wall. She stared at her hands and the wounded feet that had carried her for miles. She muttered to herself as she rubbed them. The grime and grit fell to the floor and her wounds slowly faded away. Her mother watched her heal her various wounds. It was exhausting work and the small child's head fell back against the wall with a thud. She rolled her head to her family and scooted closer to them. Adria pulled the gags from her siblings' mouths and frowned at the deep red lines that the cloths had left. She didn't know if she had the energy to mend their wounds, but she was going to try.

She mumbled a different incantation and watched as the ropes turned a deep brown and finally black. A small plume of smoke rose from her bindings and wafted into the air. She prayed that the evil men outside wouldn't take notice of her escape attempt. Let alone her magic. She worked feverishly at the numerous braids. Weighted footsteps neared the door and she struggled with the finally thick layers that restrained her. Her hands scrabbled against the twine and slid them loose just as the slaver captain swung the door open.

Adria stood and ran at him with a scream. Her arms flailed as she barreled into him at full speed. It was a fight for her life and the lives of her remaining kin. She sent the captain to the floor with her landing on his chest. She clawed at him several times before he caught her wrists and resumed control of the situation. Adria continued to fight him with all of her might, even if it was a losing battle, she still wanted to give her family a chance. She felt a concussion to the side of her head. Mother's voice yelped in horror at the strike to her child. She covered her children's eyes and whispered to them prayers of the Maker. It wasn't very inspirational to the child that had sacrificed her short life to those that now sat terrified at what she had done. Her head was woozy and the slow drips of blood fell from the tips of her feathered hair and onto the tops of her feet. Her vision went blurry and she shrieked. She was dizzy and stumbling as the final glimpses of light slipped away.

XXXXX

"Hey," the captain's voice came through the haze followed by a hard nudge to her foot.

Weakened by the assault on her cranium, Adria opened her eyes to a room that spun at varying speeds. Her eyes followed the spiral of wood and diminutive faces that hovered over her. She turned in the direction of where her mother and siblings had been nestled. Her head throbbed when she turned and saw Carver sitting alone his knees to his chest and his face was hidden in the folds of his pajamas. He sobbed into his knees and every attempt Adria made to rise and console him was marked with the exquisite pain and starbursts from the rather obvious head wound that had matted her hair to her face. Her eyes darted to the weeping boy and back to the captain who was glaring down on her.

"Sir, we're ready," the soldier from before stated outside the room.

"Where's Mother?" Adria grumbled. She hurried to her knees and toppled back over onto her side. The angry man snatched her up by her hair and dragged her out of the room.

"Get the boy," the captain ordered.

Adria turned to her brother and fought to break free of the man that had gripped a new set of rope that had been laced around her wrists. The sun had fallen behind the tree tops and the azure sky had turned a shade of amaranthine. She stumbled out the door and was forcibly escorted to the back of the formerly abandoned shack. She heard Carver's snuffling and gasping as they stopped in front of her mother and sister bound together with rope. Two slavers held them on the ledge of a well. Their eyes trained on the petite child but no expression could be seen behind the closed helms and obscuring masks.

"Momma," Adria questioned at the battered woman.

The girl started towards her mother and was quickly stopped by the captain slamming his hand into her chest. She looked up at the man and back at her mother.

"Hush, darling, it's alright," her mother whispered.

Bethany was silent but those large eyes told her older sister volumes about what happened in the hours of her unconsciousness.

"Think you can break away from us," the captain spat. He held out his hand and received a length of rope. Adria followed it with her eyes and saw that it was the same one that held her mother and sister together. "You want to save your family, you dog lord bitch? Here's your chance!" He planted the rope in her hand and squeezed her hands shut around it. Adria looked at her brother who was restrained by one of the men. His sword was pressed against the statuesque child. His eyes pleaded for her to save them. She didn't know what to do or how she was going to rescue them with the available rope in her hand. "If you can pull them out of the well, they will live. If not… well, they won't it's as simple as that."

"You have to save them, Sister!" Carver finally squeaked.

"I don't know how," Adria admitted with a heavy heart.

"It's simple."

He nodded to the two men. They nodded and shoved the two into the well. Bethany screamed as they started to fall. The slack was being drawn away from her quickly.

Adria felt the tug of the rope and she fought it. Her arms shook as she tried to maintain her grasp of both her mother and sister's dead weight. Her heels dug into the softened soil and she yelped as the sudden jerk of their stop pulled her joints taut. She combated the agony as long as she could. She heard her mother's voice emanating from the hole. She kept telling her it was okay if she let them fall. It wasn't her fault.

"I can't!" The rope slid in her hand. It scraped a layer of flesh away from her hands and strung it along the threads. Carver shrieked at her ineptitude. She didn't have the strength; it was too much for her to bear. She didn't want to let them down like she had before. Or like her father hours before. "Oh Maker, give me strength!" she screamed. She pulled with all of her might and saw the return of some of the rope. Her eyes lit up with the small glimmer of hope that she was going to actually succeed. The loose dirt caked at her heels as she wound the rope around her bound fists and lashed it around her waist. She took a step and then another.

A twig snapped and broke her concentration. Her grip loosened and the friction rubbed her hands raw. Several more feet pulled through her hands and was coated in a heavy streaking of red. Her hands became wet with blood as it seeped through her fingers. She cried out in agony and looked at the captain. He was enjoying her pain. It was a lesson that would last if she survived any of this. She struggled to regain what she lost. Adria centered herself and fought again. She was losing this battle and the more she realized it, the more she denied herself the reality of what was going to happen to them.

The troupe of men laughed at her, called her names. They taunted her and antagonized her shortcomings. She cried. As much as she had held onto her waning composure, it was a staggering example of determination. Her eyes blurred with tears and she hadn't noticed the captain unsheathe his sword.

"Alright, alright," he said. The group quieted and for a split second the wounded child thought she had succeeded in his challenge. She smiled when he glanced at her. "Just hold it there and we'll take care of them." Adria felt her shoulders separating from their sockets, but she was willing to take the damage if it meant that they were going to be safe and with her again. She would mend herself when it was all over and she vowed not to run again. She wasn't going to put them in jeopardy like she had.

She nodded in agreement.

The man raised the sword over his head and in an instant the moonlit glint of steel sliced through the rope. The weight was released and Adria fell to the ground on her stomach. She gasped and saw the remainder of frayed rope slide over the side of the rock wall. It followed the shrieking Bethany and the abnormally silent mother. Distant thuds seeped from the hole and then complete silence. She couldn't breathe. She shook her head, dismayed at what had happened.

The men roared with laughter. The captain chuckled and snatched the child up. Adria looked at her brother who was hiding behind his hands.

"Take the girl and get ready for the transfer. That blasted slave master should be here soon."

He shoved the girl in the direction of her brother. Her eyes fell to the ground. Her hands throbbed and still bled. The slaver placed his hand on her shoulder and took her and her brother back inside. He sat both children in chairs at the table in the center of the room. It was filled with scattered papers and maps. Adria tried to read what was there but again the language didn't seem to help her obtain anything.

Carver stared at her, numbed by the experience. Adria had disconnected all together. The slaver cut the ropes away from her wrists and moistened a tattered cloth in a small cup of water. He dabbed her small hands only stopping to see if he was causing any discomfort. The girl showed no emotion what so ever.

"I'm sorry about your mother," he finally muttered. He took off his helmet and placed it at his feet. "That was a rotten thing to do to you and them."

Adria stared blankly at him. She examined him for sincerity and found it in the way the young man's eyes kept diverting away from hers. She winced as he applied pressure and bit her tongue to keep from verbally assaulting him. He was just as culpable, just as liable, as those that had heckled her. She hated him.

_Control._

"Is Momma alright?" Carver asked.

The slaver looked at him with hurt in his eyes and shook his head.

"I'm sorry."

"But I want Momma and Bethany!"

"I know. I know."

"Carver," Adria mumbled. "They can't come back."

_Control._

The man sighed and wrapped her hands in bandages.

"I know it's hard to understand right now, but you'll be well taken care of from here on out."

"Don't lie to us," Adria spat.

The foot soldier was taken aback by her tone. She was defiant, cold, and filled with a fearful desire to maim him. It didn't matter what he had done for her in the brief aftermath.

"I didn't sign on for this part. I just wanted to make some quick money. I wish you kids understood."

He walked away and came back with a small sack. It rattled as he sat it down on the floor in front of him. Adria watched as he pulled the metal shackles out of the back and clapped them on. They were much heavier than the rope and were just barely loose enough for her to move in. He shackled her ankles, paying close attention to not pinch her in the bindings. When he was satisfied that she couldn't wriggle loose of them he moved onto her brother. Carver didn't fight. He just sat and watched his sister go from the spiteful fireball she usually was to a more submissive and broken child. All the life drained from her face as she jiggled the chains. If he had only known in the few short years that they had been around each other that she had just tucked away the final remnants of what made her who she was he wouldn't have given up on himself as well.

The slaver pulled the final pieces of their "attire" out and began to pull the soft cloth over Adria's eyes. She was blinded and sitting in the dark. Her lip trembled slightly at the finality of the exposition. She heard Carver whimper. She could only assume he was getting the same treatment that she had. A hand patted hers followed by a heavy sigh.

"You won't have to wait long. Trust me."

She listened to the heavy boot steps lead away from her. She turned in their direction and cleared her throat. The sound stopped and she smiled.

"You do know he's going to kill you and all the other's right?" she asked.

"That's purely conjecture at this point."

"If he's willing to do the things to us and lose money to prove a point then you are just another person to stand in his way of the goal."

"You're a child. What could you possibly know about any of this?" the man snapped.

"Just watch yourself. And when you taste his blade remember my words."

The man snorted, "Which is?"

"I told you so."


	4. Chapter 4

The water was cold. So very cold. It sent shivers up the elven boy's spine. Goosebumps dotted his flesh as another bucket of chilling water was poured over his head. He closed his eyes, letting the soapy water pour down his face. The smell was faint, the water black from the ground in dirt that had matted his hair. His eyes searched around the bleak room, but avoided the contact of the slave that was washing him.

The elderly woman made attempts to open communication with him, but Leto shunned her all the same. A coarse sponge rubbed his skin to a glowing red. Wavy sunlight shimmered off the ripples and blinded him every time he looked at his hands. Pruned fingers gently emerged, breaking the surface and sunk back down into the depths. The woman sighed in exasperation and tossed the sponge into the water, splashing the child in the face.

"It won't be so bad, dear," she stated. "Just listen to what the master says and all will be well. Trust me."

She grabbed a towel from beside her and opened it. Her arms were wide in an accepting motherly way but Leto wouldn't have it. She wasn't his mother. How dare she try to console him!

"I want to go home," Leto muttered. His eyes squinted in the blaring sun and stood up in the tub.

He was thankful to be out of the ice cold drink if only to step onto the sunbaked patio that burned his feet. The woman threw the towel around him and pulled him close. Even with the soft textures of the plush towel drying him, the scratchy, irritating sponge had scraped off a layer of skin that had left him stinging with each swipe she made.

"What is your name, child?"

"Leto," the elf grumbled.

"Everything will work out in the end. I promise." The woman patted his head and dried his hair. "That's what my mother told me and what I told my daughter."

"Is she here?"

The woman frowned and nodded.

"Can I play with her?"

He tried to let his guard down for a split second but resented the obligatory niceties when he saw that mean woman standing in the doorway. The old woman took notice of the rigidity of the child's stance and looked over her shoulder.

"Play time is over for you," the young woman stated with a snide tone.

The kind old woman stood and rapped the towel around the nude child.

"I'm sorry, Mistress," she muttered with her head bowed. "I was just-,"

"Giving him hope that he doesn't deserve," the woman interrupted with a sneer. "It doesn't matter what you tell him or what fleeting fiction you feed to the little bastard, he's going to learn that you don't escape or leave anywhere."

She snatched the boy by the arm and led him upstairs. Her finger nails dug into his flesh when he struggled, but maintained a firm grip so as not to mar the pretty little elf's skin. Leto kept looking around taking in the extravagant pieces of art and fine furnishings that decorated the walls and floors. Crystalline chandeliers hung from the ceiling and the tear drops of crystal chimed in the faint breeze that came from the opened windows. She unlatched a door and dragged him to where Master Danarius was seated behind a desk.

"What is it now, Hadriana?" Danarius asked as he set a scroll down. He interlaced his fingers and smiled at the green-eyed elf.

"He is cleaned the way you wanted him to be, Danarius," Hadriana snapped.

She shoved the boy in front of her and crossed her arms.

Leto shook from the cold interior and looked at the man who had been uncharacteristically kind to him.

"Come here, Leto," Danarius called in a gentle voice.

The boy stood there unable to move no matter how much he was being beckoned. A hard smack landed to the back of his head. Leto turned and saw Hadriana scowling angrily at the insubordination.

"You heard him. Move!"

The elf turned back to Danarius questioningly and gripped the towel tighter around him. He took one nervous step and then another till he was beside his new master. He tried to look away, but the magister's mischievous look made him curious as to his intention.

"There now," Danarius uttered. He placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed. "How was your bath?"

"It was-," He stopped to think of the proper descriptor and resigned himself to the obvious. "Cold."

Danarius chuckled and nodded for Hadriana to leave. The woman bowed and took her leave.

"It's been quite the adjustment for you since you got here. Are you settling in alright?"

"I want to go home," the scared boy squeaked. "When can I see Mother and Varania?"

"Eventually." Leto's shoulders slumped at the answer. He rubbed his nose trying to fight the burning in the back of his throat. Danarius took notice of the disappointment and frowned. "I'll have one of the women bring you up some clothes and then I would like you to join Hadriana and me for supper tonight. How does that sound?"

The elven lad's stomach rumbled hungrily. The prospect of real food that would fill him and satisfy his insatiable hunger were thoughts he never would have dreamed of. He had always just settled for the scraps that his family was thrown. Along with the other small family units that worked for his former master, it was a fight for survival and in certain instances favoritism. While his mother had the most children out of the other slaves, she always went the extra mile to please her master and keep her children out of harm's way and that usually meant doing some really disgusting and horrendous acts.

"It sounds nice," Leto chirped.

"Splendid," the magister said with a smirk. "Go ahead and get ready. I will see you shortly."

He started away and right hard smack landed on his bottom. He jumped and turned to the magister in pain. Danarius just leered at him and shooed him away. Leto rubbed the tender flesh and scowled. What had he done to deserve that? His grip loosened on the towel as he reached for the intricately carved handle. Maybe things would be alright as long as he stayed in line and didn't make a sound. Maybe Hadriana was right there was no leaving and that this is what he was destined for.

To his child mind, it wasn't that bad of a deal. Dinner that was suited for people with larger tastes and well established housing instead of the dilapidated shack he lived in before. Maybe in the end he did get the better part of the deal but what about his mother? Did she really go through what she did so he could be sent here?

Leto snatched a roll from off his plate and nibbled at the moist bread. He watched Hadriana stare at him in disgust and drank her glass of wine. His small hands reached for the small cup of water and gulped it down as if it was his last. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and continued devouring the sweetmeats that rested on his plate. He picked up the fork and the knife and stared at them in complete obliviousness as to what to do with them.

He stabbed the meat and ran the blade of the knife through the steak and sawed it into a shredded mess. The tip of his tongue stuck out as he fingered the meat and grumbled to himself. He looked to Danarius, who in this time sat with an amused smirk on his face. He set the silverware down and huffed in frustration.

"This thing is absolutely disgusting," Hadriana grumbled.

She took a final swig of wine and placed the goblet down. The elderly woman, from before, approached with a bottle of wine and filled the glass again. Leto watched her with intrigue and stared at the purple fluid in the glass. He took his own cup and stared at the boring and tasteless liquid in his cup and frowned.

"Do you want some?" Danarius asked. He waved the woman over to him.

The boy nodded in agreement and held out his cup for its own dose of the mysterious drink. The magister pointed to him and the old woman poured a small dose of it into his cup. She took her leave and returned to her station at the far side of the dining room.

Leto swished the deep colored wine in his cup and sniffed. It was fruity and sweet with just the right amount of alcohol to it. He placed the cup to his lips and sipped it. It was bitter and a lie to everything he thought it was going to be. His face contorted in disgust and he spit it back into the cup.

"Disgusting little imp," Hadriana snapped. "Have you no self-control at all! Stupid little beast!" She rose from her chair and approached Danarius. Her demeanor changed when he looked up at her. She knelt at his side and glared at the elf. "When is your new addition going to be coming, Master Danarius?"

The magister set his utensils on the plate and looked down at the blue-eyed woman and sighed. He placed his hand on hers and shook his head.

"She'll be here when she gets here."

"When she does can I have that one?" She cocked her head with deadly intent at the boy.

"Now why would I give up what is rightly mine. You'll have your own slaves soon enough my girl. But you may not have mine."

"Then while you are tending to the other may I-,"

Danarius put his hand up to stop her.

"That's a discussion for another time. We will not be filling his head right now with useless affirmations until he's been fixed. Is that understood?"

Hadriana's head fell and she nodded.

"Yes, Master Danarius."

She rose up and glared at the boy again. She yanked one of the girls to her side and whispered in her ear. Hadriana beamed and waited for her order to be acknowledged. When the elven girl nodded she released her and left.

Leto became nervous and sat up properly. He didn't want to be replaced. He was going to be good. Screw the little whore that came in between him and what he was willing to fight for. The magister that had been kind enough to dine with him, the nice clothes, and the attention- it all belonged to him.

"Are you ready to retire for the night?" Danarius questioned.

"I am Master Danarius," Leto said with a nod.

The magister chuckled and stood from his seat. He held his hand out to the young lad and led him back through the hall and up the same set of stairs as before. Again, Leto looked around at the well-lit rooms that he passed and came to a stop at a set of heavy double doors. He looked up at his master and waited for the door to open. Danarius looked down at him and smiled at him reassuringly.

"Go ahead and open the door, my boy. This is where you are going to be staying."

Leto's heart skipped with anticipation. He became shaky and almost fainted at the prospect of his own room. He didn't know slaves could be treated so well. He unlatched the doors and swung them open. His eyes fell on a room that was fit for the Archon himself. Books. Paintings. A large bed that stood in the center of the room. The child took a step into the room and spun around. He was elated at the enormity of the room. His room.

Danarius closed the door behind him and locked himself inside with his new attachment. Leto stopped and grinned from ear to ear.

"This is to be mine?" the little boy's voice came out shriller than anticipated, but it didn't matter.

The magister took off his robe and laid it across the arm of the chair. His eyes glazed over the small child hungrily and finally he nodded.

"It is- as long as you do as I wish," Danarius answered. He pulled off a golden chain and placed it on the dresser.

"What would you have of me?"

"Take off your clothes and lie on the bed," his master ordered.

It was an odd request. What disrobing had to do with anything made little sense to the young boy. He looked down at the finery and began to peel off the layers of clothing. He felt Danarius' eyes lingering on his body as he pulled his shirt over his head and let his pants fall down to his ankles. He got to his small clothes and stopped. He looked up at Danarius and waited for the next order. The magister pointed at the bed and continued removing his clothing.

Leto hopped up into the bed and felt the soft fabric under his skin. Danarius stood by the fireplace and cast out the glowing light leaving the two of them in the dark. The small boy's heart quickened as he heard the soft footsteps approach the bed and then the weight of the grown man settle down beside him. Rough hands rubbed his young flesh and he recoiled at the advance. His eyes adjusted ever so slightly in the darkened room. He could make out the faded shadow of his master closing in on him and felt his touch running up his thigh.

"Is this what I'm to be then," Leto gasped. He had meant to say it internally, but with everything going by so fast it slipped out before he could catch it.

"You're going to be whatever I want you to be," Danarius whispered in his ear.


	5. Chapter 5

Three weeks in that swaying hold, being treated as cargo made Adria all the more despondent to her situation. She hadn't heard a peep from Carver since they had been stowed away on the ship. The only thing she had learned from any of this was the destination: Minrathous. What did that matter? She knew she was going to be sold off to some person and she would never see her brother again. It would be the end of her world if she lost her one remaining family member. And after she had failed her mother and Bethany before she didn't know if she could tolerate another major failure like that again.

She heard the slave master outside her door. Her hands were unbound and she could see just barely from the light that crept in from under the door. She lay on her stomach and peeked under the door to see what was going on. All she saw were two sets of boots. The men were talking, but in hushed whispers and in that foreign language she couldn't yet understand.

"I'll check on her and see if this is exactly what the magister ordered," the slave master stated.

The girl scrambled to her feet and plopped onto her pile of hay as the door opened. She covered her eyes as the light flooded in from behind the man. The rapid contraction of her pupils gave the man that lingered above her in his funny clothes an odd aura. He snatched her up by her arm and led her out of the room. Her feet picked up splinters from the wood that pained her with every step she took. Finally she heard the sound she'd been longing to hear since they boarded the vessel. Carver was crying. Softly still, but crying.

Her tension calmed at the development and she became instantly more compliant to the disfigured man that dragged her above deck and into the open ocean air. The waves lapped at the sides and the boat swayed gently along the current. The sails billowed in the breezes and the mast's gentle creaks were a tune of impending winds that would thrash them around the vast body of water if they didn't make landfall soon. The sun had barely risen in the east, but the horizon burned far brighter than the dawns that Lothering offered. Clouds seeped of orangish hues that spread far overhead in ribbons and wisps until fading into their more natural pale white.

Idle chatter from the crew came to an abrupt stop as the little girl passed them. They snickered and pointed, making lewd comments about her small frame and the words _breaking her in_ were uttered more than once. Her stomach grew in knots at the implication and hurried her pace to keep up with the slave master. Whatever was awaiting her when they made landfall had to be safer than the cat calls and whistling that followed her through a door and down another set of stairs.

"Oy, mage," the slave master called. "Check this one out. I want to know how much coin I can get off of this one."

"Right, right," the blonde man muttered. He waved over his shoulder and only turned around when the door up above slammed shut. "Now that that blighted fool is gone have a seat."

He pulled a chair to the center of the room. Adria looked at the chair and back to the man and reluctantly sat with a thud. She folded her arms and squinted at the man who couldn't be older than sixteen or seventeen. He pulled a small scroll from his pouch and read it over. His eyes glanced at the girl and back to the scroll. He scowled and crumpled it up and tossed it over his shoulder. He knelt in front of her and produced a key to unshackle her.

"What are you doing?" the girl asked as she feverishly rubbed away the pain in her wrists.

"I have to check you out before you make landfall," he answered.

He examined her hands and arms rotating them to make sure there was nothing that was in dire need of healing. He placed her feet on his knee and sighed.

"What's wrong?" she questioned. She looked down at her feet and saw the gashes that had begun to fester. "Oh." She dusted away some of the dirt and saw the oozing puss and enflamed skin. It pained her to look at it let alone lay hands on it. "I can fix it."

The man's eyebrow perked and he chuckled.

"You can fix it?"

"Sure," she said with a shrug.

A soft light emanated from her hands onto the necrotic tissue. Her powers radiated and flickered several times. The tip of her tongue stuck out as she concentrated all her energy into tending her wounds. Her muscles shook and sweat beaded on her brow. Finally her will couldn't take it any longer. She fell against the back of the chair and panted in exhaustion.

"You're a mage," the man blurted out.

"Yes. I'm sorry if I scared you."

Her eyes fell to her hands with shame. She wound the fabric of her thinning night shirt around her fingers and tightened her fist.

"You don't scare me," he said. "I can do it too."

He finished up her remaining work and smiled. He left her feet dangling and stood to look for something. He scoured the shelves and flung open cupboard doors. He pulled items out and threw them on the floor.

"So you are a mage too?"

"Yeah."

He moved to the other side of the room and tossed things off the table. Adria watched him with interest. It was a kindred spirit. She wouldn't have to hide her powers around him.

"Why aren't you in the Circle?"

He turned on her and glared.

"You're a Fereldan right?"

Adria nodded.

"Well I am as well. And the Fereldan Circle is for weak-minded hypocrites that fear what they cannot control."

"So then why are you here? Where are you going?"

"I left. There are better things to do outside the tower than reading tomes and dealing with constantly glaring templars who don't know a damn thing about mages in the first place. They are paranoid that we'll become something that is unstoppable."

She cocked her head as he resumed his search for the elusive item that seemed to evade him.

"So you're working with slavers?"

"Not by choice. I bartered services to get out of Ferelden."

He came back to her side and held a small shirt and skirt. Adria wrinkled her nose at it. She hated the damn things. She was happier in slacks and a loose fitting top. Not some skin tight frock that made her feel awkward.

"I don't want to wear that."

"I understand, but you have to understand that once you get off this ship your life is practically over. You'll never see your family and you will be at the whims of- more than likely- a sadist that will abuse you and eventually kill you."

The little girl bit her lip and took the tattered clothes from the man.

"I don't want to die. What if I'm really good?"

"It'll only prolong the inevitable. But from what I've seen about you in the short time we've spoken, you won't be easily broken. If you must be locked away as some tool, don't let them break you down into some drone." He looked at her and shook his head. "I'll give you time to freshen up. We'll be there soon."

He started up the stairs and listened to her soft scuffling and the remainder of her tattered cloth being ripped away. Adria felt sorry for the man. He was kind if a little preachy, but she felt a semblance of her father in him. It was in the way he spoke to her, the way he watched her. He didn't see this little girl but someone that would be powerful beyond all worldly desires. He didn't want to see the things happen to her, but Maker willing, she'd find a way out of it. She would survive regardless of the stacked odds.


	6. Chapter 6

She approached the deck. The all-encompassing heat hit her like a wall. It was muggy and uncomfortable and to her young Fereldan mind practically unbearable. It was loud and bustling. Many voices of various tongues and aromas of sweet and earthy tones were a near welcoming environment. She watched as the slave master hurried his cargo off the ship and down to the dock where a row of armed men stood. She was thankful that he hadn't noticed her. The way he kicked the men, woman and children was frightful and unsettling.

The young man from before stood beside her and she slipped her small hand into his. He looked down at her and smiled. His head snapped forward as did hers when they saw the slaver approaching them.

"Aye, I'll make some good money off of this one," he sneered.

He snatched her arm and started to drag her away from the mage. Her eyes pleaded to the mage to not let her go. Her shell was cracking and she started to cry. The strong willed child didn't want to go. Didn't want to be some puppet. No killing.

"Please don't leave me," she cried.

"I'll take her," the man said, stepping between them.

"That wasn't part of the deal. You did your job now get off my damn ship," the slaver snapped.

He gathered a wad of spit into his mouth and spat it onto the deck. The man, whose hand was still firmly encapsulating hers, shook his head and looked at the scared girl. Other men had begun to descend on them. Each one had an angry look in their eye. Each dared him to defy the slaver again. He closed his eyes and sadly released her from his grip.

"Very good," the slaver said as he dragged Adria down the gang plank.

She kept looking over her shoulder as tears spilled down her cheeks. She grew hot and angry and more wounded than when she took the clobbering by that other slaver. The mage's expression was sad. He followed them through the alleys to the slave's market. He meekly waved at her and turned a corner leaving her to face her fate by herself. Adria's head fell to her chest. The slaver maintained firm control of her. His hands gripped the chain between her cuffs and dragged her into a small building.

The ambient temperature was just as hot as it was inside as it was in the sweltering outside. Other people were lined up amongst stalls where robed men were bidding on prospective slaves. She was led up a set of stairs and into a room that overlooked the slave market. Three people were already in the room awaiting their arrival: a man, a woman and young boy.

"It's about time," the man snapped.

He glanced at Adria with a slight smirk that made her nervous. She looked away from him and her eyes fell to the black haired boy. He wouldn't look at her. He had focused himself on other things. Like the knot in the floor in front of his feet.

"I'm sorry, Master Danarius," the slaver apologized. "This one took some time to wrangle in, but she is just what you are looking for in a prospective slave. He clutched the girl's face so that the man could see her. It hurt and she breathed heavily as if she was being strangled by him. "Take note of the hair. Full, dark, easy to wrench back when necessary." His fingers clutched her locks and wrenched her head back. Danarius took a step towards her and she trembled. The way he was looking at her was unnatural. Her eyes darted from side to side, but always fell back to the prospective buyer. "And take a look at her eyes. I haven't seen anything quite like them."

Danarius brushed her cheek with the back of his hand and the urge to flee subsided.

"They are quite beautiful, indeed," he concurred. "Hadriana take a look at this one." The woman stood by his side. Her eyes were afire with unbridled hatred.

"She's nice," she uttered flippantly. Her hand fell to her hip. She was bored. That was obvious.

"Quite nice," Danarius agreed. "What's your name, child?"

"Adria."

"That is a beautiful name."

Adria blushed at the compliment and she straightened up. The tension on her hair loosened. The slaver's hand fell away and she regained control of her head. She stared at the boy who looked at her curiously. His lip curled in anger and to the small child his spiteful leers were hitting it left an uncontrollable dread.

Danarius turned his attention to the slaver and he became serious in a heartbeat.

"It is a fine choice," the slaver gloated. "Now as for costs incurred-,"

"Of course. It always comes down to money doesn't it?" He reached into his pouch and exposed a heavy sack. It jingled and Adria's eyes were huge at the mere idea of the load that was going to be put on her. "Unbind the child and Hadriana will take care of you." The slaver did as he was demanded and Danarius held out his hand with a smile. Adria looked at it and then at the owner and slipped her hand into his. "Everything will work out just fine, my dear. You'll be well taken care of. Come Leto. Let's make our new friend more comfortable at the estate."

The boy scowled and reluctantly followed. He caught up to her side, his eyes to the ground as they walked out of the building. The girl kept glancing out of the corner of her eye at him. She was intrigued by him. He looked so different than other boys. Something was off and she couldn't place it in the moment. His eyes meet hers and the corner of his mouth twitched. His expression became softer and Adria sighed.

"Sister!"

The enslaved girl's head whipped from side to side. Then she saw the source of her title. Carver was bound and standing at a stall. A slaver took out a rod and whipped him across the back. The boy shrieked and fell to his knees. Adria pulled away from Danarius in an attempt to get to her wounded brother. His grip tightened and the boy beside her grabbed her arm. She glared at him as he shook his head in disagreement.

"Master Danarius, is that the little one you had been expecting?" a man near the girl's brother asked.

"It is."

"She is beautiful. And how is Leto doing?"

"No worse for wear. He's learning slowly, but it is still a process."

"What do you think about this one?" The man pointed to Carver.

Danarius looked over his new prize's face. She pleaded with him. Her eyes shimmered in the sunlight. Her hand grabbed his arm and all she could do was beg that the torture be stopped for her brother. Danarius ran his fingers through her hair and smiled.

"I know, dearest. We'll see who actually has more power in this relationship." He turned his attention back to the man. "I think he'll make a fine slave. My little one approves of it."

"She might just have you whipped," the man snickered.

"Five minutes in my care and she's already got me under her spell."

"A wise choice then. May she be as useful as lovely."

"I'll see to that, my friend, don't you worry."

Danarius led the girl back to the mansion. The voices drifted away the smells remained and the archaic architecture were something that reminded her of all those utterly horrific tales that her father would tell her. She had always pictured Minrathous as one of those dark and evil places where once you arrived- you were lost. She might have been right. The majority of people she saw were being handed off as some item that would probably never see daylight again as a free man.

They approached a set of guarded gates. Adria was in awe of the beauty of the compound and what little doubt she had held on to about getting away crumbled away. It was the end: the end of her freedom, the end of her dreams and that sinking feeling that she was abnormally calm to the change. She glanced at the boy and meekly smiled. He diverted his eyes from hers and hid his own smile.

_Well, at least I won't be alone in all of this. Maker, watch Carver. He's going to need you more than I._


	7. Chapter 7

The abuse was tormenting and violent. Each day got worse and the feelings and insult became more of a belittling experience for the young boy. Whether he was being beaten continuously by his master or having disgusting acts perpetrated on him, Leto, kept his mouth shut and took it. While Danarius was cruel in the way he treated him, Hadriana was worse. When they were alone for any stretch of time she inflicted more lasting wounds on him than he ever thought possible.

Yet he never spoke a word to Danarius. He didn't want to cause trouble and if the magister had given her approval it wouldn't be his place to say anything regardless of what she was doing. The fact was that she could do it and she made it a point to tell him that her testing on him would continue until the day she or he died- whichever came first.

When the sun rose on the final day of his solitude he was elated in a broken-spirited sort of way. No longer would he have to see Danarius for the bastard he was and as long as his eyes still lingered his way for attention of some sort- he would be happy. As for the little girl that was supposed to be arriving today: the news left little for his imagination to take hold. All he knew was she was a stranger and one that would be impeding on the one thing he'd been working towards since he entered the large fortress. Acceptance. And while he got certain things right for his master, others were forced on him. The nightly romps into the master's quarters were something he would be glad to be rid of.

The pain and injuries that each of those nights inflicted cascaded in to a dense and withered sense of insecurity and anguish. Every night was the same, every day fraught with dread when Hadriana appeared. And yet he never cried, never made a sound when Danarius was mutilating his sense of self and worth. When Hadriana would have her go at him he still remained silent. No satisfaction to ebb her personal hatred for him. It would infuriate her more and her anger became his satisfaction. That didn't mean he liked the crack of the crop on his back or the magical experiments she did to his extremities or his torso.

If the nights were at their worst, he would fly away and submerge himself into a more tranquil place. He thought of the incoming guest that would assume his position and he grew content. Someone to share in his misery. This shadowy figure that looked as he did and then it hit him like a bolt of lightning. What if she didn't like him? What if she was just like the others? Regardless of the fact she was to be a slave to Danarius; she would still outrank him in terms of her station. She would be his mistress and would be given opportunities that he would never expect.

While he hated Danarius for the pain he inflicted on him, he had grown a certain affinity for him. Even if it was a naïve justification to let him do what he did. He worked harder to please him and strained not to make a sound the more ostentatious the magister's physical requests demanded. At times he felt his legs would buckle and give out under the weight of the man. If they did, he was beat severely and left to lie in a pool of his sweat, tears and blood. It was the only time he pleaded to his mother softly and understood the depths of trauma she had let befall her for his protection.

"You need to look presentable today, Leto," the old woman stated pulling his night shirt of his head.

She saw the marks that stretched across his body in different stages of healing. The most recent still scabbed on his back and across his lower torso. She shook her head and tried not to point the boy's attention to her distress.

"Why bother?" he muttered as he slipped out of the ragged pants and kicked them across the room.

"It's not that simple to explain. The master just insists that you look your best," she said.

She handed him a less worn pair of trousers and shoved him behind a screen. The boy turned to her with a frown and scowled.

"He wants me to get dressed up for his whore? She's not mine. What do I care?" he grumbled.

He looked down at the burlap and shuddered at the itchy fabric. The old woman looked around the room and squatted down on the opposite sides of the screen. Her joints snapped and popped and she winced as she rubbed the throb from them.

"Don't call her that," she snapped. "You should be thankful."

"Why is that?" he asked as he cinched the cord around his waist.

"Because my daughter would have been in her position and I know how you feel about her. Would you want to see her abused the way Master Danarius does you?"

Leto shook his head and pulled the shirt down over his head. He wriggled in it and pulled up the sleeves that kept falling over his hands.

"I wouldn't want that to happen to her. It wouldn't be right."

He walked around the screen so that the woman could make final adjustments to his attire. She pulled at his britches and bit her lip. She tousled his hair lovingly. She struggled to get up, her knees crackling and locking as he helped her stand.

"Between you and me, I think the both of you are going to be better off. From what I hear it's a shem from across the Waking Sea."

"Shem?"

"Human. Some little girl that Master Danarius had been deciding to add to his collection for a while now." Her eyes grew cold and she brushed the boy's hair out of his face. "We mustn't dally now. You'll be leaving soon with the Master and that witch of a woman. Hopefully the magister has some sense in his head to send that bitch off to some slaver."

Leto snickered and covered the bright grin with his hand. It would have been a sight to see that barbaric and cold-hearted bitch clapped and irons and made someone's pet. Their fun ignited chuckles and aspirations of the magister's apprentice leaving. It was a small running joke that they had to lighten the mood.

The door opened up and the old woman's daughter stepped in with Danarius and Hadriana. They stifled their laughs and even though the urges to burst out into laughter at the mere appearance of that woman, they fought with every inch to regain some restraint on their emotions.

"Well I'm glad to see we are in a better mood this morning, Leto. After last night I was sure you would be still lying on the floor beside my bed. Which would have been… rather unfortunate."

He sneered at the elves making it well aware that he knew what they were discussing. The whole house was abuzz with the new arrival. Even though Danarius and Hadriana barely spoke about it in front of the help- it didn't stop the murmurs from being told from ear to ear. But the way that Danarius had scolded the boy for his failings the previous night made the point more poignant that he was about to be replaced; and by a human no less.

"The boy is ready to go, Master. I was just tidying him up for you," the woman stammered. "Is there anything else you would ask of me?"

"Take your daughter downstairs," he ordered as he placed his hand on the girl's back. "I will speak to you once we get back about this little disruption you have created."

Leto's eyes became wide at the hint in his words. He shot a look to the woman who smiled weakly and nodded acceptingly to her fate. She patted the boy on the shoulder and made her way to the door, grabbing her daughter's hand and never looking back.

"Isn't it enough that this little prig has wasted enough of our time, Master Danarius?"

"Enough, Hadriana. He is not the one at fault here. It's that woman who's causing a lot of the trouble."

"What would you have me do then?"

"She'll be dealt with at dinner this evening. The best way it seems to get these new upstarts in line is a show of force." He held out his hand for the elf to take and smiled. His demeanor flipped like a switch when he dealt with him. Unless he did something wrong and then he was treated as every other slave he owned that crossed his path.

Leto took his hand but couldn't look at the magister or Hadriana. They led him away from the false sanctity of that room and out into the populous. Guards stood at attention as they passed. One looked at the boy and frowned with concern but remained in his position just long enough for them to pass.


	8. Chapter 8

Three men stepped aside as they entered a small room. The market was bustling as slavers were auctioning off their living goods. Leto knew that for most they wouldn't survive two years in this hole. Others would be sent to their deaths immediately. For those people he was thankful for them. They wouldn't have to suffer like the survivors would.

The door slammed shut at the same time Danarius let the boy go. He walked over to a window and watched the throng of people move about their business; some stopping for brief conversations. Other's lingering to purchase a new item for their personal use. The noise was a cacophony of sound. Bells rang; voices echoed off the buildings and pierced the young elf's ears. And through it all was the relaxing scent of the ocean. It cleared away the stink of sweat and blood from the lashings that people would receive for their noncompliance.

It was a messy street where the dirt collected most moisture and rolled down the hill in clods that fell towards the docks.  
"You know what we're supposed to do once we get the child correct?" Danarius asked Hadriana.

"I do," she responded.

The boy kept staring out the window and told himself stories about the pseudo-freedoms that most of those people had. The ones that meandered around back and forth looking at the stock that had been imported; the passions and hates that they had, a whole host of characters of varying demeanors and situations. It cleared his mind from the impending arrival of the girl.

He already hated her. She was his replacement and a human. While he wasn't subjected to the stereotypical biases or discriminations that the magisters had, something about a human made his skin crawl. But whatever Danarius said was law and if he was to take in a little human girl it was definitely not his right to overstep the bounds and argue with him. He bit his tongue and conceded the fact that maybe he didn't hate her because she was human; maybe it was the fact that the affection he had strived to achieve with his master would mean nothing once she arrived.

Footsteps approached the room and two people walked inside. Leto took his place at Danarius' side and something about the small person standing opposite him made him stop the negative line of thinking. She was… mousy. Danarius inspected his property the same way Leto had. He never approached her, but when she focused her attention on him, he looked away. Her eyes were large, alien, and whatever turmoil she had faced in her journey to get here, she had a spark about her.

His master questioned the girl and as much as he tried to tune her out and focus on the rumble of noise from outside, his ears picked up a word: Adria. He couldn't get past the similarities that the word had for that vindictive sell out, Hadriana. It was an ill omen for him. Everything that he had tried to hide slowly started to eat away at what little self-preserving right he had. She would be exactly like that witch. She had to be and yet as Danarius and the slaver concluded their business and she was free of her shackles, she stared at him.

He kept trying to ignore her, but something called him back to her attention. It was the eyes. They were strange and the way her black hair fell over her shoulders and chunky bangs that covered one of her eyes and it was a fixated attempt to avoid her. This small child who was obviously younger him had even him going in circles.

"Come on, Leto," Danarius said.

He hadn't realized how long he'd been standing there. The adults just stared at him curiously and he thought the whole world had stopped to take notice of him. He walked up to the girl who still watched him. Her hand was firmly held by Danarius but her free hand remained at her side. She stopped abruptly and spun around in a frenzy of circles and ridiculous long black hair hitting the boy in the face. The once docile girl was in a panic at the sight of some other child being whipped for his insubordination.

He knew exactly how he felt. Every time she muttered to herself in her foreign tongue he knew what the heart of that matter was. She tried to break away and in an insane attempt to stop her from hurting herself he held her back. It was for the best that she not do anything. She would learn. She has to.

She turned to Danarius and all the attention that both of them had given them in the past few moments drifted away to complete and utter alienation. The magister was transfixed on the girl with large eyes and strong demeanor. Even though she played the victim, he saw through it and saw that this one was going to be hard to tame. Even for his master.

They moved through the crowds and only he glanced at her several times. Her naïve grin hid a fear that could be felt in his heart. She had no idea what she had gotten into and she would come to regret surviving the voyage here. He pitied her for what she was going to endure. He breathed a sigh of relief that the torture would be ending for him in part and what the old woman had told him seemed to make little sense to him now. How could he feel glad that this child was going to undergo acts no one should have to face? He feared for her and one the time came, if it was permitted, he would tend to her and make the transition easier for her to grasp.

The gates opened to the estate. The same guard from before; stared at him and then at the little girl with a smirk. She was wide-eyed with exuberance at the grandeur of the building. She glanced at him and when he noticed her she smiled innocently. He felt the corners of his mouth perk and even he knew that she had him under her spell. How long that spell would last was anyone's guess, but for now, she was Danarius' as was he and it would have to do for the time being.

Her eyes sparkled and he looked away, as much as he forced himself not to. If Danarius found out he was eyeing the object of his affection then he would be in just as much trouble as the kind old woman. He knew she was doomed, but the thought of stealing a glance was worth just a little bit of pain.


	9. Chapter 9

Adria stood in the master chamber and a cold shiver ran down her back. She inhaled and the faint scent of blood wafted into the air. Her eyes scanned the room in search of the source of the foul odor. Danarius watched her from the door; his eyes were afire for the sweet girl that had seemed to have wrapped him around her finger the moment he laid eyes on her.

Hadriana had left on an errand for her mentor all too willingly. As much as she balked at the request, she submitted with very little resistance. The boy leaned in the doorway and watched her meticulously peek around the bed and fall to her knees. She pulled the bed skirt up and snuck under the bed.

"What are you doing?" Danarius asked.

Leto shook his head at the girl. He shared the same amusement that his master had, but was reluctant to show it.

"Hiding?" her voice murmured in more of a question than an actual response.

"Whatever for?" the magister asked. "Come out from under there."

The elven boy looked at their master and knew that his patience was being tested. He watched a small hand emerge from under the bed and then another. Leto slipped past Danarius and dropped down to see what she was doing. He was met with those large dark eyes and radiant pale skin. Her lip trembled and a small tear drop slid down her face.

"It's okay," he said in a soft voice. He held out his hand for her.

She pressed back further away from him. She looked at him confused and then it dawned on him. She didn't understand a word he had said to her. The language barrier was thick and his words probably frightened her more than the imposing man who was glaring at him.

"Leto!" Danarius growled.

The boy turned to him and rose. He looked at the floor and followed the stern point of the finger out of the room. He glanced back and saw her start to appear at the foot of the bed. She stood up and finally dusted herself off. Lint and dust fell to the floor and her hair had a greyish tint to it from the dirt. She wouldn't come near him. Of all people, she was scared of him. Not Danarius, not Hadriana, not the guards or servants and slaves, but him.

Danarius gave him a final glare and slammed the door behind him. She was alone with him now. Adria was in the vipers' den and all her thoughts drifted away that the choice of resistance was now out of the question. He eyed her, examined the stocky human and for brief moment she thought he was going to beat her to death. He was angry at her. Her feeble attempt at escape only brought doom to her.

She finally looked up at him and waited for the onslaught to take place. She had failed herself and consequentially made life all the more difficult for herself. Maybe the mage was right: she would die quickly. Her young life snuffed out because of her fear that she had failed to contain.

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked.

She arranged herself in a more proper position. His eyes were piercing hers and the want that she had come to expect managed to find its way out of the man. He knelt down to her level and took her hands in his. His fingers rubbed the tops of her petite hands. He appraised the texture, the softness and slight glow that had seeped from her pores. Her hair matted to her head, leaving chunks of bangs clinging together in front her face. He brushed her cheek with his palm.

He wasn't angry anymore, not with her. She was submitting to him. It was the only way she knew she was going to endure whatever plans he had for her. He didn't have to say anything; she had deduced what he was thinking in the way he looked at her.

"I'm going to take care of you," he answered. "As long as you take care of me, we'll be fine."

"What do you mean?"

"It's not to be discussed right now," he said with a sigh. "How old are you, my child?"

"Six. I'm going to be seven soon," she remarked.

She beamed that she was growing older and rapidly accepted that she might not see eight at all.

"Well, that's exciting isn't it?"

He poked her in the nose playfully and hefted the girl onto the bed. She flopped onto the bed spread and sunk into the mattress.

"You're not going to hurt me, are you?" she finally questioned.

She shuffled up to the head of the bed and leaned against the board. She pulled at the frayed hemline of her shirt and glanced up at him. She flicked small threads onto the floor. Her nervous tick showed through the more she did it. Her piercing eyes and pouty lips quivered in anticipation of his answer.

He turned from the girl and started for the door. He stopped briefly and forced the door open.

"No. Not now. Not till you're ready."

"Ready for what?"

She crawled to the foot of the bed and watched him step through the threshold.

"When I know for a fact I'm not going to kill you the first time I do anything to you," he answered. "Just stay here. Hadriana will be back soon to see to your needs. I have a matter to attend to before dinner."

"Can I come? Please? I don't want to be left alone. Not again."

Adria slid off the bed and ran up to him. The magister turned to her and smirked at her inquisitiveness. He ran his fingers through her hair and chuckled to himself. His head rolled in the opposite direction as he thought to himself.

"You're all too willing to please your new master, aren't you?"

"I'll do whatever you wish of me," she chirped softly.

His eyes returned to hers and he frowned. The corners of his eyes wrinkled deeply into his face; licking his lips he placed his hand on her head.

"You are learning fast, my dear girl. But it is too soon for such wishful thinking on my part."

Adria sighed heavily and sniffled. She didn't want to be alone. Not ever again. It didn't matter who was there, just somebody. Even if this dirty man had to be her company she was willing to accept it for just a little while. She'd been locked away for so long that she wanted to cling to anyone as long as she knew there was something or someone there.

"Can I play with the little boy?" Her voice perked up when she noticed him standing beside the door.

"No," her master snapped. "You will learn your place as will he. You are mine and will be treated as I designate." He exhaled at the fearful girl and smoothed his robes out. "I will explain everything to you later." He looked towards the front door and back at the trembling girl. "Hadriana will set things up for you. Just listen to her and all shall be fine."

"Is she that mean lady?"

Danarius laughed and nodded.

"Yes, she can be. Just do as she says the first time-as you would me- and everything should be fine."

He shut the door behind him and left her alone. She barely had time to snoop around more before the devil of a woman came in. Adria knew the type all too well. Hadriana had reminded her of a traveler that had passed through Lothering. She had a certain air about her. It was cold, calculating and full of loathing.

The traveler was with a band of men who while on a drunken conquest doted on the female. If they dedicated their attention to someone else, they were usually lashed verbally by her. She was self-absorbed and completely hypocritical to the people under her. She took many a man to bed with her. The only way that she knew of it was the town gossip that made a point to practically yell from the rooftops that she was a whore.

Hadriana dropped boxes onto the floor and huffed at the girl.

"Here's your stuff," she muttered.

Adria opened up the boxes and found all assortments of clothes. Her face contorted at what they were. Dresses. All dresses. No pants or anything.

"Can't I wear something else?" she bleated.

"Spoiled shit!" the woman spat. "Pick something out so we can get you set up for dinner. Danarius is expecting you to be cleaned and ready in an hour."

The girl rummaged through one box and tossed it aside. She didn't want frills if she had to wear the blasted things. She was glad to be out of pinafores and was able to make her own intelligent decision as to what she could wear. It was her father's prerogative to give her the power of choice, which to her mother's chagrin meant he was trying to turn her into a boy by letting her dress like one and play like one, instead of learning to just be a child.

_Father. Mother. Gone. Bethany. Carver. Gone. Alone._

She pulled a purple dress out and showed Hadriana. The woman stared at her, disinterested in what she had been forced to put up with. It wasn't frilly, it was knee length and more mature than she thought she would have had to wear. The white petticoat that went under it made her nauseas- ruffles, lace, and tulle. She was going to be fluffy.

_Ick._


	10. Chapter 10

He placed his ear to the door and listened to the muffled whispers between his master and the little girl. It was soft, kind and completely contradictory to what he had listened to the magister say in recent weeks. His words were different: loving and compassionate. He hadn't had a kind word from Danarius for weeks. All he received were admonishments and orders for incorrect behavior.

Yet, this girl, this stranger, managed to do the one thing that he had dreaded since he first heard she would be arriving. Granted, if he were in the master's position he would have lavished the girl, too. She was far from intimidating and even in these intimidating situations she showed little to know emotion about it. He could tell she was frightened. She had no idea what she had gotten into and for that he had sympathy for her. Whether or not she was the enemy when it came to the personal precedence that he'd endured- and she would as well- it was only a matter of time before he had to make a true decision about her.

The cylinder in the knob clicked and he bolted from the door. He didn't want to give Danarius another excuse to whip him for eavesdropping on their conversation. Even though he had no idea what they were speaking of. He tried to make it to the stairs but skidded to a halt when the girl had pointed him out. Danarius shot him a look and his heart stopped. Leto looked at the girl with a scowl. His eyes narrowed on the child and he drew his conclusions about her without a second thought: she was just like the others and would be most likely the one to cause him the most trouble and misery.

He burned with a rage for her and when Danarius finally scolded her for questioning him; he was elated and truly filled with a satisfaction that he hadn't felt in a long time. She glanced at him with shimmering eyes and a torrent of indecision flooded him. The smug look drifted away and what he saw was a lonely child that just wanted someone to relate to. He understood the feeling. He had been surrounded by adults since his own arrival and it was an unsettling feeling that left him out of place. Now it was made worse by the conversations that both Hadriana and Danarius had with the girl. If brief they still made him feel left in the cold with his lack of understanding. That was another mark against her.

"What are you doing here?" Danarius growled. The magister looked at the boy whose attention was still drawn to the shut door and the fragile girl on the other side. Leto ignored him and it fueled a fire that the elven boy should have anticipated. Danarius shoved him into the banister on the landing and slapped him hard across the face. The slap stung and his eyes burned with unshed tears. "Whatever you got in your mind, boy- get rid of it. She's not for your admiration and drilling a hole through the door with your stairs will only get you in more trouble than she is possibly worth." Danarius took the boy down the stairs and led him into the kitchen. He flung the child at the scullery maid and scowled. The dalish slave dropped a pot on the ground to catch the falling child, scattering ingredients across the floor. "You'll get one final warning about her and that is all: if you value your life; you'll stay away from her."

Leto looked up at the magister and with a costive nod, brought his hand to his burning cheek. The magister exited the sweltering cookery, leaving the boy in the arms of the girl. He muttered incoherently to himself and began to help gathering up the spilled peripherals. He caught a glimpse of the lass's face. The look of concern and worry ran through it along with a set of smeared grease and soot streaks. She was filthy. Her greasy hair was pulled back and sloppy clumps fell over her shoulder.

"What did you do to anger him this time?" she muttered.

She bent down and collected the remaining items from off the wooden floor before he could reach him. They both shot for an apple at the same time, only Leto had grabbed it with her hand landing on top of his. They both froze. Neither one was willing to move first. The boy simpered at the game and decided that they had both played long enough. He slid his hand out from under hers and presented the apple to her.

Both of them stared at it. They were famished with what little food they had received. The lad's stomach growled angrily, urging him to take a bite of the succulent fruit. It glowed like magic. This forbidden fruit was just as taunting as the one that remained upstairs, locked away in a room.

"What don't I do to anger him?" Leto smirked. He sat and propped his knees up, leaning onto his hands to stare at the ceiling. "How's your mother? I hope I didn't get her in to too much trouble."

He caught her out of the corner of his eye shooting him a dirty look. He sat up and hugged his knees. She didn't have to answer. He already knew. It was the same expression she had when one of the other slaves was to be executed. Complete and utter helplessness surged through him and he shook with ire.

"You know Master Danarius wastes nothing," the girl stated softly. She stood up and dusted off her knees and apron before setting the raw food onto the table. She helped her friend up and began to dust away the fine particulate from his shabby tunic. "My only fear is that you will be next. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."

"Nothing is going to happen to me," he insisted with a playful grin.

He pushed her hands away and finished cleaning himself off.

"It might with that little shem hanging around," she grumbled. "If he sent you here with a warning about her you know that's going to be the final straw about her. Next place is the dungeon where you will be strapped to a table and slit from ear to ear to bleed like a pig."

"You worry too much. She doesn't have that much power over him," he replied with a smirk.

"You'd be surprised," Hadriana's voice growled from behind them.

The two elves jumped from the surprising sound in their oppressor's voice. Leto spun around and caught Hadriana standing in the door, her hands placed on her hips in an irritated fashion. She walked past the boy, knocking him into the table and struck the girl across the face.

"Mistress?" the girl sulked.

"You are supposed to be working." She eyed the both of them with hatred burning in her eyes. "Both of you."

"What would you have us do then?" Leto asked.

"Tell the washer women to prepare a bath for that little heathen girl and fix her properly. She's waiting outside with that abhorrent garb Danarius wants her in," she ordered. The girl curtsied and left up a flight of stairs to the slave's quarters. "As for you, head to the dining area and make the place presentable." The boy made his way past the woman only to be stopped by her pulling him back to face her. "If I was you: I'd stay clear of that. We wouldn't want Danarius finding out about your comingling with that trashy little whelp, now would we?" The boy nodded his head. "With the girl here, it's bad enough I have to deal with you, but he would be ever so heartbroken to have to execute you for dallying with her on his time."

"I understand, Mistress," he said.

"If you truly know what's good for you, I'd keep my distance from that child upstairs. In Danarius' eyes you are so far beneath her you aren't even worthy to be the dirt she treads on. Consider how he looks at her and think about all the things you will have lost because you failed him," she prodded with malice. "Make yourself bloody useful and maybe you will save yourselves the inevitable torture that you both face if you displease him. She's just an empty vessel once he has his way with her and if she's more conforming to his standards, then you will be out of the picture with nary another glance."

Leto's heart seized at the loathsome thought. This bitch of a woman was attempting to feed into his obvious paranoia and she was succeeding. Each word shot through his ears like an arrow released from a bow. He didn't know what to say or if there was anything that he could. He resisted opening his mouth to argue with her because she knew who and what she was. His only comfort was in the fact that his acquaintance was the only one who gave a damn about his well-being beyond Danarius' deviant perversions.


	11. Chapter 11

Leto walked past the door on the way to the dining hall. The sounds of laughter carried on the air and it stalled him. He stuck his head in and saw two of the slaves scrubbing the girl in the tub. The essence of cinnabar oil enveloped the entire room. It was overpowering from where he was staring and even though he tried desperately to heed both Hadriana's and Danarius' threats, he couldn't stop himself from staring at her. Maybe it was the insurgence of chemicals that were released into the air from the musky bath oil that she was coated in.

The women looked like they were having a grand time speaking ill words about her right in front of her. She, on the other hand, said nothing. She wasn't amused by it and her hurtful countenance was all the more heart breaking when they submerged her under the water to rinse her clean. She splashed and flailed, sending crests of water over the side of the bath's walls. Her small feet kicked into the air. They whooped up a storm at her panicked state. Her hand fell limp over the side of the tub and his heart raced. He wanted to do something to stop them, but with utterances of words of warning seeping in from his memory, he remained watch over her. He was sure they would pull her out in time before she drowned.

"What in damnation is going on here?" Danarius bellowed.

He forced Leto out of the way, giving him a stern look of warning before turning his full attention to the women. The silence created by his presence was deafening. The soft sounds of coughing and gagging perked up the boy. The magister ripped the soft and warm towel out of her bather's hands and wrapped the girl up. The tremors she produced were visible from where he stood. She clung to the towel. Her small fingers peeked out and when she looked at him, the tint of blue from her lips and paleness took him back.

"We were just finishing her up," the woman stated softly.

"Bullshit," Danarius snapped. He seethed at them. His breathing was ragged and forced. His jaw clenched and relaxed in a rhythm that simulated chewing. Their master was holding back words. A first, since Leto had been there. The little girl looked up at him, large eyes that faded away from panic and brightened at his rescue. He faintly smiled at her and patted her on the back. "Finish getting her ready. If I hear one more thing coming out of this room, I swear I'll take it out on everyone you've ever cared about before I even begin with you."

The boy pressed himself against the wall and let the magister pass. He watched him head downstairs. The soft sounds of footsteps from him approached the door. His blood ran cold when the girl stepped out onto the landing.

"Thieving whore," he muttered to her. His eyes diverted from hers. He made the half-hearted effort to not look back at her.

It was for the best for both of them. Hadriana was right, as was Danarius, the best way to keep them safe was to stay away from her and pretend she didn't exist. Even if it meant hurting her it was kinder than leading her down a path that was deadly for them.

XXXXX

She entered the dining room, walking right past him without a single glance. She still carried the scent of her bath on her. The swish of her dress drew his attention to the frivolous design of cloth and the juvenile white stockings she wore. Danarius stood when she approached and applauded her for her appearance. He glared at the little girl scornfully. She pulled her chair to the table and glanced in his direction.

"You ready to serve these stupid people?" the scullery prodded.

"Don't have much choice. Let's just get this over with," he said with a sigh.

They both made their ways to the table and doled out the meal. The child watched him as he handed her a napkin. His eyebrow twitched angrily at her. It should have been him sitting in that chair; taking pleasure in the finer things. Not this scrawny little mouse that had practically forced him out the second she came into the picture.

The night dragged on. The magister and Hadriana conversed about various political nonsenses that made little difference to him. He glanced at the girl on the far side of the table and frowned. She was just as lost as he was during those conversations that Danarius had with her.

_Serves her right._

Course after course was removed from the table, but the final one left him with a sickening feeling. He could feel that girl; that disgusting little brat surveying him. He couldn't help but turn and look at her. She beamed when he finally acknowledged her.

"Stop," the elven lass warned. "She's just trying to get you in trouble."

He glanced at the little human briefly and nodded in agreement.

"It isn't fair," he muttered to himself.

"Tell me about it," the girl replied with a snort. "Hey, want to hear something funny?"

"Sure."

"What did the magister to say to his slave in the kitchen?"

Leto shrugged and piled the remaining cutlery together.

"What?"

"Nothing. The slave stabbed him," she chortled.

It wasn't that funny, but he humored her nonetheless.

"Come on. I think they are finished with their food. Maybe they saved something for us." Leto stated.

He went to the little girl first and noticed the roll on her plate uneaten. He stared at it and then at her. She feigned a smile and turned away from him. She was indeed scared of him as much as she tried to fake her bravery.

_What's wrong?_

He couldn't stop leering at her. Everything he did, he did without looking. He wanted her to look at him again. Wanted to know what she had hidden behind those eyes. Those very strange eyes. He got his wish when she peeked up at him. They locked on each other; each examining the other as if they were peering into their soul. Then he found it: sadness. She couldn't hide it. He knew nothing of the means of her arrival, but there was a deep ingrained sadness to them. The story she told without the utterance of a word was far more wracking than anything he would have cared to witness. It must have been traumatic for her and her resistance to this place was slowly starting to seep in.

He couldn't follow Danarius' or Hadriana's order. She was going to be the death of him.

He sped away, dirty china and silverware in hand. He kept glancing over his shoulder at her. This enigmatic girl with the untold story and barely a life to lead had him instantly enraptured. He argued with himself about it. Surely this innocent ruse was nothing but that, but the presentation was nothing like he'd ever seen. He'd seen new slaves, each with enough traumas to tell where they had come from, but she had this look of terrible unforeseen things that a child shouldn't have to see. If she survived that, then maybe, just maybe, she'd be alright.

He hadn't seen the elven girl coming in his direction and they collided. Plates shattered and knives fell to the wood flooring with their points penetrating the lacquer.

"Damn it," he muttered.

"By the Creators! Why are you still paying attention to that shem?" she hissed at him.

"I wasn't," he stammered.

"Yeah, and I'm the Archon," she snapped with a roll of her eyes.

"Don't you feel a little bit sorry for her?" he asked.

"Not one bit. She shouldn't even be here in the first place."

"That's kinda cold. None of us should be here."

"She's going to make us miserable. Just look at the way she sits there with a satisfied look on her face."

The elf pointed at Danarius and the girl and Leto's heart jumped into his throat. She was walking away with Danarius in tow and she did have a satisfied face. They both were pleased with each other and where did that leave him? It didn't matter in the slightest at this point whatever he had going for him; it was lost.


	12. Chapter 12

She scratched at the dress through the appetizer. The itchy fabric burrowed through her stockings and stuck her fragile skin. Her feet swung in the dining chair as she anticipated the first course to their meal. The feast was aromatic and her stomach growled hungrily. It was empty and had longed for a decent dinner. Her hair was neatly piled atop her head. Small spirals framed her face. Yet, her bangs still remained resting just above her eyes. The more she fidgeted, the more they fell into the way the usually did. Off center and over her eye. She liked it that way. And as long as she wasn't in braided pigtails, she was content with the girly flim-flam she had on her crown. Her scalp hurt from how tightly they had fashioned her hair and the servant that had been ordered to do it made sure she felt unwelcome.

As soon as the first course was placed in front of her she inhaled it and gasped. It was delightful. She couldn't wait to taste it. She resisted the urge to devour it as quickly as possible. The boy handed her a napkin and glared at her. Hadriana watched their interaction and snorted disapprovingly at the two of them. Adria scarfed at her food regardless of proper table manners. Her stomach filled to near bursting as the adults discussed what had been going around the city.

She tuned them out and watched the boy work from a distance. He eyed her food and frowned only to resume his work. Every few minutes he'd look at her and back to the dishes on a small buffet. She smiled at him but promptly stopped when one of the girls nudged him in the shoulder. He avoided any more contact with her and solely made eyes at the female. They smirked and flirted, giggling once in a while at each other's jokes.

Adria felt so lonely that she didn't fit in with the others. They spoke their language and left her to sit inquisitively. She was only acknowledged by Danarius who smiled at her when there was a break in the chatter. She was growing restless just sitting there. She shifted continuously in her chair. The boy came up to clear the table. He leaned over her and squinted contemptuously at the docile girl. She bit the inside of her cheek nervously and glanced away from him. He remained, slowly heaping cutlery and china on top of each other. She would have loved for him to leave. He was making her uncomfortable with the way he was looking at her. She glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw only his eyes. They were expressionless and yet she couldn't help but turn her head to stare him down.

When she refused to look away from him again, he took a step back and hoisted the stacks of dishes into his arms. She was familiar with this game. It was something that she and her brother had played when they were trying to get under each other's skin. In her mind: she won. It was as simple as that. She leaned back in her chair, legs still swinging to and fro and smirked in satisfaction.

Dishes clattered to the floor and it startled her. She jumped from her seat and started towards the noise. Danarius threw his napkin onto the table and grabbed the girl by the arm.

"It's not your place. Take a seat," he ordered.

Adria began to protest but a sudden jerk into her chair stopped her. She folded her arms across her chest and sighed. Hadriana glared at her again and sipped her wine. They continued their conversation over the noise of the slaves cleaning up the broken plates.

"Can I go outside?" the small girl asked.

Danarius turned his attention to her and smirked.

"Outside? It's dark out. Why would you want to do that?" he questioned her with a perked brow.

Adria saw the boy stop and look at her perplexed. She bit her lip nervously and ignored the glares that she was receiving from the servants and Hadriana.

"Walk? With me?"

Hadriana snorted and shook her head in disgust at the odd girl's request.

Danarius shot her a glare and she stiffened instantly.

"Is that what Adria wants?" he asked.

She nodded and hopped out of her chair. She waved at Hadriana and beckoned the magister to follow. She gave the boy a final glance over her shoulder as she led Danarius from the room. Two guards saw their approach and went to attention. Their conversation ceased long enough for the magister and the girl to pass.

The night was sprinkled with stars. The air was still sticky and the heat radiated from the ground. Crickets chirped their courtship tunes and fireflies floated about the green grass. Floral accents flitted in the air and carried its way over the wall and off into the surrounding yards. The grating of metal on metal from passing guards on patrol made the whimsical thoughts that Adria had about a princess in a castle seem all the more real to her.

"This is really pretty," she stated. She held the magister's hand tightly and looked at the statues and flowers. She bent down and sniffed a pale pink flower. It tickled her nose and she rubbed her face. "I like your home."

Danarius unsheathed a small dagger and plucked it from the bush. He handed it to her letting his fingers grace hers gently. She inhaled it again and continued walking.

"I'm glad to hear that," Danarius said. He led her around to the far end of the path and sat on a bench. His forehead was drenched with sweat. He wiped it away and shook it loose of his hand. It sloshed to the ground in droplets. His greying hair was slicked back and the cleanly trimmed beard reminded her of her father's when he went days without shaving. "Do you like it here?"

The little girl nodded slowly. He took he hands and held them as she leaned back on her heels and bent down to her knees. Her black slippers pointed to the sky as she stretched and shook the tension from her muscles away. She straightened up and plopped onto the bench next to the man. She looked up at the night sky that had spread on to infinity.

"I'm scared," she admitted. She looked down at the beautiful dress and white stockings. Her hands shuffled back and forth along her legs as a biting chill coursed through the garden.

"Whatever for?" he asked. "You look more tired than anything."

She pointed to the sky in a spark of curiosity and smiled. She avoided his question intentionally. She didn't want to admit her reasoning to him let alone herself. All those angry people inside made a point to tell her what she was going to be to the man. She argued with them as they called her names. "Len'alas lath'din." They spoke in their foreign tongues to each other. She knew they were talking about her. Even the boy, when he past her on the way to dinner uttered words of discontent in her direction. "Furandi scortum."

The more she listened to their biting words and snide insults the more she realized that they had been waiting to sink their venom into her long before she arrived. She had not a friend in the world. All she had was the magister to protect her from their glares and remarks. Even then she didn't care what they or Hadriana had to say. Danarius made a point to all of them when he overheard them that he would fix them without remorse if they continued, starting with their families.

"I am tired," she admitted.

"You look really beautiful this evening. Hadriana's completely jealous," he joked.

"Good for her," the girl grumbled with a frown. She yawned and leaned into the man's arm.

He pulled her close and let her head fall forward. She hadn't realized how tired she was. Her hand tightened around the stem and placed the bloom on her lap. Her hand fell into his lap and she felt him flinch when she touched him.

XXXXX

"Leto!" Danarius called to him from the back entrance.

The boy hurried to his side and saw the magister carrying the small, limp body of the girl. Her feet dangled over his arm. The sway of her legs knocked her slipper to the floor. The boy picked it up and followed the master up the stairs. His heart raced as he watched the man laid the girl on the bed. She rolled onto her side and curled up into a ball. He smirked and prodded the girl in her sleep that she couldn't possibly get any tinier than that. His hands wrung the soft leather slipper and waited for his name to be said again. He wanted to approach her to get a better look, but opted not to just for the sake of breathing.

Danarius groaned as he took his boots off and placed them beside the bed.

"Is there anything else you need?" Leto finally asked.

"No," Danarius said with a sigh. The boy bowed and headed for the door, still holding the shoe tightly in his hands. "What do you think of Adria?"

He stopped and went to his master's side. His eyes kept falling on the lass. He didn't know how to answer the question. It wasn't that easy for him to put the words together.

"Different."

"That she is," the magister said with a chuckle. "The girl's got me wore out already and she hasn't really done anything yet."

"She's small."

"That's pretty obvious, but she's invaluable to me." He placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. Leto looked at it and frowned. "After today, she's going to need someone to look after when I'm too busy to attend to her myself." He paused and tousled the elf's hair playfully. "You two are about the same age. Do you want to do it?"

He shot a look at the man with confusion.

"She doesn't even understand me."

"She'll learn. She's going to be well taken care of and maybe she'll teach you a thing or two."

"What could she possibly have to offer me?"

"A chance to get in my good graces."

"Are you sure I can do it?"

"I'm sure."

"Then I'll do it," the elf muttered.

"Good. Now that that's settled there's something to keep in mind. She is mine. You are not to touch her or stare at her overlong. She belongs to me and she will be used as I see fit."

"I understand, Master."

"Then find a spot on the foot of the bed." The magister yawned and lay down beside Adria, pulling her close to him.

Leto couldn't sleep. He just kept watching the shallow rise and fall of Adria's chest. It would be many a night that he stood vigil over her and pondered the certain implications of being her personal servant more or less. He dug his hand into his pocket and felt the roll still slightly warm from the dinner service.

Maybe she wasn't so bad and the morsel of food she had left was more important for her to give than anything. It was a peace offering when there was no war to be had.


End file.
